How to Date a Younger Man

by Kendall Ryan

  “Griff, this is my friend Layne. She’s a badass lawyer and very stressed. Maybe you could put that massage experience of yours to good use and give her some pointers on how to unwind.”

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  “Hey, we just went to happy hour. Isn’t that the definition of unwinding?” I say, praying to whatever god can help me that Griffin doesn’t say anything about the fact we’ve already met. Or that he’s already put his hands all over my naked, oily body.

  “Happy hour sounds like a start,” he says, holding my gaze with a look so intense, my insides immediately flip-flop.

  Tearing my gaze away, I look back at Kristen and shrug. “See? I’m wound just fine. Now can we please discuss something more important like how much longer do we have to wait until our food arrives?”

  “T-minus . . . five minutes,” she replies, checking her phone. “Griff, do you want to join us? As long as you eat like a slightly tipsy thirty-three year-old and not like the twenty-three-year-old frat boy you are, we should have enough lo mein to share.”

  Twenty-three? Holy fucking shit, he’s a baby.

  And just like that, I’m happier than ever that I turned him down, and a little embarrassed that I had any kind of tingly thoughts about him since. He may be legal, but the combination of being a full decade younger than me and being Kristen’s little brother suddenly makes him even more off-limits. “I’m always down for Chinese,” he says, sitting himself smack dab in the middle of the couch and resting both his arms out across the top of the cushions.

  “Gee, Griffin, make yourself comfortable. It’s not like we have a guest or anything.” Kristen rolls her eyes and mouths an apology my way.

  I smile and shrug, playing it off like it’s not a big deal. And it isn’t, really. I’m a lawyer. I play the nonverbal game all the time. He has no idea who he’s dealing with.

  “What? It’s a big couch. If anything, I’m making her more comfortable.”

  Kristen scoffs. “Clearly.”

  My mouth turns up into a half smile as I settle into one of the gray armchairs, crossing my legs toward Griffin. He raises his eyebrows, cocking his head at the empty spot next to him in invitation. I only partly meet his gaze in response, tucking my hair behind my ear and turning to Kristen, who’s straightening one of the picture frames by her tall wooden bookcase.

  “Kris, do you need any help?”

  “Nah, I’m fine. Just as anal as ever.”

  “Since birth, actually.” Griffin smirks.

  Kristen huffs. “Griff, why don’t you make yourself useful and see if our guest wants anything to drink.”

  He turns his turquoise eyes to me, arching a eyebrow and lifting his chin. “Your wish is my command. Layne, can I be of service and get you something to quench your thirst?”

  I roll my eyes. “Water would be great.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want anything stronger? There’s plenty of room on this couch if you want to crash here tonight,” he says, nodding again to the empty space next to him.

  Kristen shoots him a warning glance. “Don’t be gross.”

  “What? I’m being hospitable.”

  The building intercom buzzes, and my stomach growls happily in response.

  “That’s the food. I’ll run down and get it,” Kristen says, grabbing cash out of her purse before leaving the room.

  Once the door swings shut behind her, Griffin turns back to me, the look on his face playful and serious at the same time.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” I say, crossing my legs away from him.

  “Like what?”

  “Like you’ve seen me naked and had your hands on me.”

  “But I have seen you naked and I’ve had my hands on you. Believe me, I could never forget that.”

  “Not the parts that count.”

  “I saw enough. Besides, I have a very active imagination.”

  My stomach lurches. He’s been imagining me? My mind spins a little, thinking about the two of us in different parts of the city, having dirty dreams about each other. Before I can think too hard about any of that, I pull myself together, rolling my eyes and letting out an audible scoff.

  “I’m going to get a water,” I say, rising to my feet.

  Griffin stands up and follows me. In the kitchen, he opens the refrigerator and pulls out a bottle of water to hand to me. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. The opposite, actually.”

  As I accept the bottle of water, he rubs his other hand over the back of his neck, looking at me through thick, dark lashes.

  “I was trying to pay you a compliment. You’re gorgeous, Layne.”

  I level him with a serious glare, placing one hand on my hip and immediately going on the defense instead of allowing his words to stick because I’ve never been good at accepting a compliment. “I’m sure you hit on all of Kristen’s friends and say all the right things to make them feel special.”

  He gives me an amused look. “Whatever you have to tell yourself.”

  “Be serious, Griffin.”

  Good grief, the guy has six well-defined abs. I have a jiggly ass and a muffin top I have no plans to deal with. A little jiggle never hurt anyone, and I like tacos a hell of a lot more than I like the gym.

  “I am being serious. Very serious.”

  He moves closer to where I’m standing, and I’m trapped—my lower back pressed up against the counter.

  Having him so close makes me realize how tall he is. With my heels on, most guys don’t tower over me the way Griffin does. And, God, why does he have to smell so good? It’s like a mix of cedar and sandalwood and the faintest hint of lavender.

  “All I want is a fair chance,” he murmurs, his deep voice dropping low.

  I swallow a sip of water, trying to regain my composure. “Fine. Tell me about the last date you planned.”

  This should be entertaining. I don’t want to assume but I can’t help but think it’s going to involve surfing or whatever else young people do in LA. Or maybe he’s one of those guys who doesn’t believe in dating at all. These days it’s all about Netflix and chill. . . . whatever that means.

  Griffin meets my eyes but takes a second to think about my question. “I had a girl come over and we, uh . . . smoked weed and colored in coloring books.” When my eyebrows dart upward, he adds, “They were adult coloring books, if it helps.”

  I smile unevenly. “It doesn’t.”

  Griffin chuckles at my snarky tone, running one hand through his hair.

  “Is that what you would plan to do with me on a date?” I ask.

  “No.” His tone is firm, and there’s a determined crease between his dark eyebrows.

  No matter how cute he is, he’s got to see this is a terrible idea. Literally, the worst idea ever thought up.

  “I’m too old for you,” I say, determined and shaking my head. “And I’m your sister’s friend. It’s never going to happen. It can never happen.”

  “This is probably a bad time to tell you that I enjoy MILF porn.”

  “You’d be correct.”

  “Layne, look. I don’t know if you believe in fate or karma or any of that shit—and normally, I don’t either. But you and me, coming together like this twice in the same week? I think the cosmic significance is hard to deny.”

  Cosmic significance? Who the fuck is this guy?

  “Your point?”

  “My point is, you should let me take you out. At least once. I have a feeling we could have fun together.”

  I have to hold back a laugh. The last thing I want to do is offend Kristen’s little brother. So I chuckle softly, trying to keep the conversation light and almost playful, hoping it might soften the blow.

  “I’m serious,” he says, his eyes darkening.

  My heart sinks a little at the look on his face. I don’t want to offend him. But I can tell that I need to be firm and clear with him now, or this will continue to be a problem.

  “I know you are, and I think it’s
sweet. But, really, kid—”

  “My name’s Griffin.”

  “Griffin. Look, you seem like a great guy who’s very, uh, sure of yourself. But I’m ten years older than you, we are in total different parts of our lives, and you’re one of my best friends baby brother.”

  “Younger brother. There’s one more of us who is younger than me, you know.”

  “Younger brother, fine. My point is, it’s never going to happen. I’m done with just dating around for the fun of it. The next relationship I get into is going to be just that—a relationship, full of commitment and plans for the future that includes babies, marriage and everything that comes with finding a forever kind of love. You’re twenty-three. You’re not ready for forever.”

  He looks surprised, maybe even stunned, by my response. But before he can counter it, Kristen returns, her arms full of plastic bags, the mouth-watering smell of Chinese food wafting in with her.

  “Here, let me help you with that,” I say, quickly joining her in the doorway.

  She awkwardly hands me a couple of bags, and we take the food to the kitchen, where Griffin still stands near the fridge. He grabs a spring roll and a bottle of water, then disappears back toward the couch without saying a word.

  As Kristen and I start plating our food, she leans over to me, raising her eyebrows in the direction of the living room. “Please tell me he hasn’t been weird in the two minutes I was gone,” she murmurs, a touch of amusement in her voice.

  “What? Uh, no, he’s been fine,” I stammer, taken aback by her comment.

  “Ever since he hit puberty, Griffin has been . . . forward, to say the least. I’m sorry. If I’d known he was going to be here, I would have warned you.”

  “Honestly, there’s nothing to apologize for. He’s totally harmless.”

  “Okay, well, if he gets gross or comes on to you or anything, don’t be afraid to, like, smack him or something.”

  The image of me smacking his tight ass crosses my mind, but I brush it off. He’s Kristen’s little brother. And not at all what I’m looking for right now.

  “I’ll keep that in mind. But, honestly, Kris, it’s fine. You have nothing to worry about.”

  By the time we join Griffin in the living room with food, he’s packing up his things to go out and says something about meeting some friends. He doesn’t meet my gaze when he says good-bye, but Kristen doesn’t seem to notice that anything’s up.

  She and I spend the rest of the night scarfing down our takeout food and reminiscing about the crazy shenanigans we used to get into in and it makes me feel even more secure in my decision to turn Griffin down.

  It might sting for him a little now, but ultimately, it’s the right choice for both of us. He has all kinds of fun and trouble to get into in the next few years, and the last thing he needs is to be held back by the expectations of an older woman.

  And me? I’ve got a law firm to run—and a Mr. Forever to find.

  4

  * * *

  GRIFFIN

  Three years ago

  “Griff, are you home?” Kristen calls out as she enters the apartment we share.

  “Yeah, in here,” I say from where I’m working at the kitchen counter. I’ve spent the last hour assembling a casserole dish of mushroom-and-spinach lasagna.

  “Oh my God, that looks amazing.”

  She pauses beside me, gazing down into the dish that I’ve carefully layered with cheese, noodles, and marinara sauce. Cooking isn’t something I do regularly so it’s obvious she’s impressed.

  “Mmm, is it vegetarian?” she asks, stealing a sautéed mushroom from the pan and popping it into her mouth.

  “Of course.” I grin at her, my strange non-meat-eating sister. But, hey, since for the most part, she buys the groceries around here, it would be a major dick move not to accommodate her wishes—even if I miss eating, well, all the dead animals. God, I’d kill for some bacon.

  “You’re my hero. But don’t be mad, okay?” She forces a fake smile, narrowing her eyes at me.

  I raise a brow in her direction. “Why, what’s up?”

  “I told Layne we’d meet her at seven at Lario’s for appetizers and drinks. She’s dating someone new and wants me to meet him.”

  It’s Friday night, and I should have known my sister would want to go out. “I have plans with Wren later anyway. I guess we could join you guys for a drink.”

  “Awesome. Would you be mad if we popped this in the fridge and had it for dinner tomorrow night? It looks amazing.”

  I shrug. “That’s cool. But because I just spent an hour cooking for you, you’re buying my first drink.”

  Kristen grins. “You have yourself a deal. Now, go get ready. We leave in thirty.” She shoos me away before sauntering into her room. “Yes, ma’am.” I quickly finish adding mozzarella cheese to the top, and then cover the whole dish with plastic wrap before placing it in the fridge. Then I grab my phone to text my friend Wren about the change in plans.

  Thirty minutes later, Kristen and I stroll into Lairo’s, the trendy new bar-restaurant that opened earlier this year in the center of downtown. It’s kind of a pain in the ass to get to, but since Layne wants us to meet her new guy, and there’s very little I wouldn’t do for her … here we are. A large circular bar dominates the center of the room, and several high-top tables are scattered around the perimeter.

  I spot Layne right away. She’s sitting by herself at one of the high-top tables for six. Rather than staring down at her phone, like anyone else would probably be doing, Layne is people watching. As a lawyer, she has a knack for reading people and I know this because she’s always seen straight through all my lines.

  But then I notice that her gaze is locked on a couple sitting at the bar. A very touchy couple, from the looks of it. They’re turned on their bar stools to face each other, and are holding hands while they talk in hushed tones. A large diamond sparkles on her finger, and he’s laughing at something she’s said.

  When we reach the table, I swear I see a hint of pain in Layne’s eyes as she watches the couple interact. It’s not exactly a state secret that Layne wants to be settled down in a serious relationship by now. But as quickly as her teary-eyed expression appears, it’s gone. She plasters on a smile and rises to her feet to give both Kristen and me a hug.

  “Well, where is he?” Kristen asks, her voice filled with excitement.

  Layne laughs and motions for us to sit down. “Brian’s on his way. He said he was running a little late leaving work tonight.”

  So he left her sitting here alone? What a jackass. That’s a one-point deduction for being a tool, Brian.

  A waitress comes by to take our drink orders, and I spot my friend Wren. Rising to my feet so she can see me over the crowd, I give her a quick wave. A happy smile spreads across her face as she heads in our direction.

  Wren is a classic case of the ugly duckling. We became friends in grade school, where she was the quirky girl who didn’t fit in. I felt bad when I saw her sitting alone at lunch every day, so I started inviting her to eat lunch with me and my group of friends.

  Fast forward ten years, and Wren has transformed into a leggy redhead who turns heads wherever we go. My guy friends always want to know why I’m not interested in her, but I’ve always done my best to keep our friendship purely platonic. Not that I’ve always been successful. The trouble is, with our complicated past, she can sometimes get jealous when other women take my attention from her. She’s basically hated all my girlfriends and isn’t afraid to let them know. It’s always caused major tension in my relationships, but I value our friendship too much to just stop talking to her.

  Wren says hello to Layne and gives my sister a quick hug before taking a seat next to me. “Is this new?” she asks, running a hand over my chest.

  I look down, realizing she’s referring to the black cashmere sweater I’m wearing. “I don’t think so?” I say, wondering if tonight is going to be one of those nights where Wren is going to have a hard
time keeping her hands to herself.

  When the server comes around, Wren orders a glass of champagne, and another gin and tonic for me. I start to protest, but she puts a hand on my arm.

  “It’s on me,” she says quietly.

  She lets her hand linger on my arm for a moment, and I look up to see Layne watching us. I place Wren’s hand back in her lap and clear my throat.

  Suddenly, I’m not so sure it was a good idea to invite Wren. It’s been five minutes, and she’s already acting possessive with me. Apparently, I’m the fire hydrant she’s trying to piss all over.

  “Oh, there he is,” Layne says, biting her lip and waving in the direction of the entrance.

  Brian’s here. Oh joy.

  Kristen cranes her neck toward the door, and Wren looks bored.

  I watch as a guy who looks to be in his late thirties strolls up to the table. His eyes are glued to Layne, and why wouldn’t they be? She’s still dressed from her day at the office in a formfitting black dress with three-quarter-length sleeves and a knee-length hemline. She looks fucking phenomenal. Her dark hair is secured in a low ponytail, and her wide green eyes sparkle as she watches him approach.

  After they share a brief hug, introductions are made around the table. Layne takes the time to give Brian the rundown, covering Wren’s business as a party planner, and recounting how she and Kristen met at the yoga studio years ago.

  “And this is Griffin, Kristen’s younger brother.”

  Is that really all she sees me as? It takes me a moment to recover, and then I reach one hand out, firmly grasping his in a handshake.

  Brian nods, smiling at everyone as he takes the seat next to Layne. “And what do you do, Griffin?”

  “I’m studying architecture,” I say before polishing off the last of my drink.

  “Ah, still in college.” He grins conspiratorially at me. “I remember the days.”

  “Grad school, actually, but yeah, it’s great.”